


"Good Boy"

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, No Fluff, dark smut, forced blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: On the train leaving Cartanica, Ardyn pays Noct a private visit in one of the cabins. But what starts out as routine mind games turns into something much more dangerous - and addicting.





	"Good Boy"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [r3zuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/r3zuri/gifts).



> A gift for R3zuri on Tumblr, who requested Ardynoct + gunplay from me quite a while ago ^^;; And who is running an amazing Ardynoct Week and deserves all the love!

 

“Oww! Shit, what the hell…?”

Noct scans the darkness of the cabin he now finds himself in, rubbing at the spot where his head just collided with solid wall. Someone, or some _ thing _ , has pulled him in here, violently, though he can’t yet see the source of the attack. He whirls, struggles to find his balance despite the blinding pain shooting through his skull, and thinks he sees something move in the shadows. 

“Who’s there!? Show yourself!”

Behind him, the door slams closed as if on cue, and even over the sound of the rails squealing beneath him Noct can hear the heavy lock fall into place. More movement, more shadows. His heart is racing as he spins around and around, trying to catch sight of the new threat as his hands tingle with the magic of the armiger. The cabin is small, no room for a large weapon, but....

“Are you  _ sure _ you want to risk that?” comes a voice from the darkness. It’s deep, playful, dangerous. Nowhere and everywhere at once, and sends a shard of ice through Noct’s chest. “Think of all the innocent passengers you’d be putting in harm’s way.”

Noct’s fingers close tight around hard steel. He materializes the gun - Prompto’s revolver - in front of him, thrusts the barrel forward just as Ardyn appears out of the shadows at last. “Bastard!” he hisses, readying his finger on the trigger. 

“ _ Language _ , dear prince.” Yellow-gold eyes seem to shine in the dim light of the cabin, haunting and eerie. Ardyn closes the distance in a single step, and much to Noct’s dismay wraps a gloved hand around the end of the steel barrel. “That temper of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“Why are you here? What the fuck do you want?”

A shrug. Ardyn casually nudges the gun out of his way as he takes another measured step, this time backing Noctis right up against the far wall of the confined room. “I suppose you could say I merely came to talk. It would only be a tiny little lie, after all.”

“ _ Talk?”  _ The word drips like venom from Noctis’ lips, though the edge is dulled somewhat by the way he’s shrinking against the wall away from Ardyn’s touch. “The hell do we have left to talk about?”

“You’re still bitter about Altissia, I see. I assure you, that wasn’t personal,” he says, the corner of his mouth curving up into a crooked smirk. He spreads his arms in a move that's almost disarming but for the proximity - and for the fact that somehow, without Noct noticing it happening, he’s now holding Prompto’s gun in his right hand. Casually, finger loose but hovering unmistakably over the trigger as he waves it in the air. “At least, not all of it.”

Noct wants to strike him, wants to throw him to the floor and claw his eyes out of his skull for what he did to Iggy, and to Luna. He wants to end this here,  _ now _ , and despite the flash of steel in the Chancellor’s palm, Noct cannot hold himself back. Snarling, eyes filled with hate, he pushes off of the wall and aims right for Ardyn’s throat.

_ Click _ .

The hammer latches into place. Against his temple, a sudden and biting cold pressure. It sends a shiver through Noct’s body, freezes him with his hands not-quite wrapped around Ardyn’s neck, stops his breath somewhere in the center of his chest. Slowly, purposefully, the revolver guides him right back into his spot against the cabin wall, a silent display of force that manages to both enrage him and chill the fire in his gut. 

“Easy,  _ easy _ ,” Ardyn sing-songs. “Impulses will only get you prematurely killed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are those to be your final words?” 

"I'm not afraid of you."

Ardyn chuckles, a truly despicable sound. "Your trembling lips tell me otherwise. In fact," he adds, trailing the cold barrel of the gun down the length of Noct’s face, over the curve of his cheek until the edge is sliding across his mouth. "I'd say you look quite terrified."

_ Try me,  _ Noct thinks, but doesn't say it aloud. The gun to his face is loaded, and Ardyn might just be crazy enough to use it if provoked. Dying here, his brains blasted onto the wall of this train - what good would he be to anyone then? No, if the price for survival is silence, he’s going to have to bite his tongue.   

Ardyn seems to savor the apparent victory. His unnaturally bright eyes follow the tip of the gun as he drags it back and forth along Noct’s bottom lip. “ _Good boy_. Now that I've got you here, there is actually something else I'd like to try. A theory, if you will, that begs testing."

The prince swallows back an unimpressed scoff, instead allowing his defiance to show in the fire in his eyes. The gun is a constant weight against his mouth now, pressing into his lips hard enough that he feels the edge of the barrel all the way to his teeth. Ardyn turns the gun ever so slightly so that cold steel catches the dim light from the hallway. Draws the barrel down and Noct’s lip with it, a silent command to  _ open up _ . 

Whatever the fuck he’s playing at has the prince’s heart racing in his chest, a mix of surprise, fear, and panic. All he can think about as the gun slides between his lips and into his mouth is the metallic, blood-like taste of the steel; the weight of the bullets loaded in the cylinder; Ardyn’s finger on the trigger and the very real threat of an instant death that’s pulling a cold sweat to his brow. Too terrified to move, to even breathe, Noct can only tremble as he opens his mouth wider in Ardyn’s twisted game.

A hum from the man in front of him. Yellow eyes flicker, amusement playing in shadows across Ardyn’s face, and he pauses with the barrel half-buried in Noct’s mouth. “You look good like this, you know. Quite the natural. I expect you must have done this before.”

_ Natural? Done it before?  _ Noct’s mind is spinning, churning, the panic ebbing and flowing with every shallow breath he takes. He can’t understand what Ardyn is saying, can’t follow his words clearly with the blood pounding in his own ears. 

But then…. Then the gun moves again. Slowly at first, drawing out over the length of Noct’s tongue until the raised fin of the front sight is catching at the back of his teeth. Languidly, Ardyn pushes it back in again. Draws it out. And in again. 

Noct’s face flares a telling crimson before all color drains from it completely. He tries to pull away, but he’s trapped now, stuck between the wall behind him and Ardyn in front, while the barrel of Prompto’s pistol is used to fuck his mouth. It’s sick, it’s wrong. It’s humiliating. And Ardyn, of course, is enjoying every second of it with a crooked smirk plastered to his lips. The moment he senses Noct’s realization he abandons any semblance of patience. Grips the prince’s arm and holds him firmly in place while he shoves the gun faster, harder, deeper toward the back of his throat.

“M- _ mmmff! _ ” Somewhere in Noct’s chest a sob forms, struggles to escape around the thick steel weighing down his tongue. The revolver is slick with spit and sliding easily between his lips now, though the force of it is still bruising, still causing his knees to tremble and if it weren’t for the grip on his arm he might very well go crashing to the floor.  _ Stop! _ he tries to scream.  _ Let me go! _

Suddenly a screech of brakes on metal wheels, and the train lurches to the side. Noctis is thrown forward, colliding with Ardyn’s chest and sending both of them stumbling back across the room. Just as the man loses his footing, his hands clench for balance on instinct - and before either of them can stop it the trigger is pulled and the hammer of the revolver slams down with the finality of an executioner’s axe. 

_ Click. _

Silence. In Ardyn’s arms, Noct has gone deathly still, his eyes scrunched up and heart stopped, paralyzed with fear. But there’s nothing else. No gunshot, no explosion of pain or burst of light at the end of his life. Nothing but the constant rocking of the train and Ardyn’s warm breath against his face. 

Cautiously, Noct cracks open his eyes. Looks up shakily into the pools of yellow-gold watching him from mere inches away. Takes in the look of surprise, of disbelief written on Ardyn’s face. Watches as it turns into a dark, twisted, wicked smile. 

“It would seem,” he begins in the small space between them, “that today is your lucky day, Noct. I wonder how long it can last?” This time when Ardyn draws the gun back, sliding the barrel out of Noctis’ mouth with a sickly pop, he doesn’t shove it back in right away. Instead, he trails the wet steel back up along the curve of his pale face, uses it to brush the bangs from Noct’s brow. “Unless you’d like to find out, I suggest you get to your knees and put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.”

The revolver follows him down, hard and demanding against his left temple. With his free hand, Ardyn unbuttons his pants, guides Noctis into position. Strokes his soft, black hair almost lovingly as bruised lips find his cock. And it’s evident that yes, the young prince  _ has  _ done this before. His tongue feels like molten heat when it licks up the length of Ardyn’s shaft, his lips close around the head and tighten with practiced ease. He takes Ardyn down his throat knowing that his life depends on it, fighting back bitter tears at the taste and the pain and the constant pressure of the gun to his head. 

And all the while Ardyn enjoys the perfect sight, his mind works to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The revolver. The expert way the prince sucks his cock, even though the performance likely isn’t even his best. Spiky blond hair and oddly familiar eyes - an orphan, or perhaps something much more interesting. Could the feisty gunslinger also be dear Noct’s secret lover? How quaint. 

Ardyn thinks that once the prince is finished here, he’ll have to pay his little boyfriend a visit, too. 

  
  



End file.
